


Simple As That

by orphan_account



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, endgame spoilers, post-game spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23325352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the final battle, Kit shares a moment with his parents, and Alfyn reunites with his savior.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Simple As That

_“I will not return... to the darkness…! I…...will…...not……”_

With the fallen god’s fading words, the ground rumbles beneath them, and the travelers scramble to hold something, _someone_. The quakes intensify, heels slide against gravel, a yell sounds across the hellscape-

Then, nothing but white.

There’s an eerie silence. 

Is it over? 

Mumbling to herself, Ophilia awakens to a deep blue expanse - a welcoming sight compared to the ominous reds that bathed the battleground. Dirt cakes the tips of her torn gloves, as she clung to the ground with all her might. But thank Aelfric, she’s alive. What about the others?

Eyeing the familiar form, the cleric rushes to Tressa’s side. She recalls how Galdera nullified her sidestep maneuvers (bless be to Balogar) and landed a direct hit. As her healing light glows beside him, Olberic is on his knees, barely holding himself upright with his blade. He huffs from the exertion as the last of Winnehild’s strength leaves his veins. When he musters the strength to stand, however, there's a warrior’s pride in his stance. Cyrus, sender of wailing souls to the beyond, catches his breath nearby. Clutching his tome of sorcery, he thanks the gods for their aid before joining (leaning against) Olberic’s side.

“By gods, that was phenomenal…” he praises between breaths, supporting himself upright with the warrior’s help.

“You speak only of yourself, Cyrus,” he deflects smoothly, wrapping a free arm around the scholar’s waist. “Your mastery of the elements is worthy of Dreisang’s utmost praise.”

“...For once, you have left me speechless,” Cyrus offers a soft laugh, glancing toward a rising Tressa.

Running fingers through her tousled locks, the merchant manages a weak grin at her friend. “Hey, Phili… urgh, did we win?”

“It would seem so. I sense no evil presence… it was as if the twelve gods themselves were by our sides today,” she confesses, still marvelling at the divine acts her friends performed.

“Heh… we really laid it on him, huh? Bet you we’re gonna be legends!”

Comforted by her friend's boundless energy, Ophilia radiates healing light from her staff, slowly rousing the others from their stupor. H’aanit awakens, first confirming Linde’s safety before addressing a nearby Primrose. Scanning her for injuries, the huntress moves closer and pats her face.

“Art thou awake, dear Primrose?” she inquires.

“Hhh… What’s this _‘dear’_ , all of a sudden...?” the dancer mumbles, eyelids heavy. Still, she offers a bashful smile upon seeing the huntress so close to her. “Can’t a lady wake herself up?”

“Thy tongue remaineth sharp as a dagger. ‘Tis all I needeth to know,” H’aanit relaxes, caressing Primrose’s cheek. The weary dancer welcomes the act, leaning into her touch

Seeing her companion safe, Linde slinks toward an unconscious Alfyn and Therion, lying side-by-side several yards away. Purring in concern, she butts her head against the thief before licking his cheek.

_Urgh… wet… what..?_

Concealed beneath his bangs, Therion slowly opens his eye. White. Not his hair.

_Oh, great, is this--_

Another lick, with more vigor. And slobber.

“Oh... hey Linde,” he’s too exhausted for sarcasm, blindly patting the white in front of him. Linde purrs in response, prepared to give Alfyn the same treatment. Fortunately for him (unfortunately for Therion), he’s already awake - and masking a snicker. Cheeky bastard.

“I see Linde’s taken care of you already, heh. How’re ya feelin’?”

“Like a million leaves,” Therion responds dryly, wiping the wetness from his face. His body aches from whatever the hell just happened, but he’s mostly unharmed. Linde paws at Therion’s head and he understandably lifts it up. He shakes from the strain as the leopard morphs into a makeshift pillow beneath him. Finally, he rests his head upon soft fur, sighing in relief. It’s a regular routine between them; once Linde verifies H’aanit’s safety, she dotes on the thief. Perhaps she had sensed Therion’s hidden pain and cozied up to him all those times before. Comfort without awkward words. Therion had appreciated it. Linde certainly appreciates it now, purring away like a kitten.

“Mm... million and one,” Therion mumbles, his slight yet unguarded smile warming Alfyn’s heart. “And you?”

“Eh, nothin’ I can’t fix, “Alfyn moves his arm in a circular motion, eyeing his rousing companions. So everyone’s made it, huh? But where’s…?

On the nearby platform, where the witch conducted her ritual, Kit lies motionless. Unkempt hair mats against his forehead and his tattered cape splays across the ground. For a moment, his body shudders as the last of Galdera’s essence leaves him, and then, nothing.

Ignoring the strain on his own body, Alfyn rushes up the stairs. Kneeling by his side, he checks the man’s pulse, breathing deeply himself to calm his pounding heartbeats. 

Alive. Thank the gods.

“Kit! Hey buddy, ya with me?” the apothecary shouts, brushing aside Kit’s hair and placing a hand against his damp forehead. He’s about to pat him awake when he hears the pained groan.

“...ngh...” Kit’s eyelids flutter open, and he peers up at a gentle, familiar face. Disheveled hair and skin laden with sweat, but gentle. And a little panicked.

“… Al….fyn...?” he murmurs weakly.

“You got it,” Alfyn nods, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he held. Flashing a weary smile, he still tries to quell his worries. “Looks like it’s over and done with... you’re gonna be all right now.”

Kit lets out a trembling sigh, shutting his eyes. He can’t remember anything, but _god_ , everything hurts. Something rustles beside him, and a cloth dabs against his pale skin. Moments later, something prods at his lips. _Healin’ grape_ , the voice reassures - just like the one back in Clearbrook. He obliges without question.

With renewed strength, Kit tries to sit up. _Lemme help ya_ , he hears, and continues forward. Strong arms support him, and he’s up, taking deep breaths from the act alone. Shivering, he brings the ends of his cape closer for warmth.

“All… you’re all here...?” Kit turns toward the travelers in surprise. They’re in various states of wear and tear: arms wrapped around waists, heads resting against shoulders, against a leopard? Fatigue aside, they give Kit reassuring nods. A thumbs-up. Even a wave. Kit nods back.

“Ah, forgive my foolishness… I thought I would find my father here… but that woman tricked me, in the end. I saw a flash of red, and my body burned from the inside out… then nothing.” Kit glances at Alfyn, then back toward the rest. Remorse and tears fill his eyes, as he endangered so many in his selfish quest. In the end, he found nothing.

Alfyn opens his mouth to state otherwise when a blue light appears before them. The light envelops the area in a soothing warmth, chasing away remnants of dark matter in its wake.

_“Kit… Oh, how you’ve grown…”_

“---!” Could it truly be?

Beams of light swirl and shimmer, materializing into two human forms. Alfyn squints his eyes toward the closer form, but cannot discern its features. Kit helps him see the light.

“Father…? Mother…!?” With all his strength, Kit pushes himself off the ground to face the source directly. He can’t believe what, _who_ , he sees. 

“Is it really you..?”

“Not in the flesh, but…” Graham’s spirit reaches out to embrace his son, and Kit closes the gap. Somehow, the light feels solid. He can hold his father again. Perhaps the gods ordained this special circumstance, but whatever the reason, he can _hold_ him.

“‘It is me, my son. How I wish I can hold you properly, but... this will have to do.”

Warmth emanates from his spirit, and Kit hides his face in the crook of his father’s neck. The light envelops him closer. Tears flow, and he’s silent at first. His body trembles, and then he lets it all out.

“I-It’s been too long, Father…” Kit sobs, uncaring of his state. “Y-you must have had your reasons, I am sure, but... I hoped that you would return. For years, I searched for you. And here, we must reunite like this…”

Graham leans forward, resting his chin upon Kit’s shoulder. Kit still feels the light’s radiant warmth, yet sorrow passes through him in waves.

“A fool, I was. It must seem like I left without so much as a final word. Your mother was gravely ill, and I had panicked. I had journeyed for a cure, yet upon her passing, tried to reverse death itself - only to lose myself, in the end.”

“Lose yourself...? What do you mean?”

Graham doesn’t answer for some time. Instead, his face contorts with uncharacteristic hatred. “That _vile_ woman… pray that she brought you no harm.”

“Vile? Ah…” Kit laments, suddenly ashamed of his actions. “I… I followed one who claimed she knew where to find you. I walked through this gate and realized my fatal error. And yet, these brave travelers - my friends - helped me see the light again. Without them, I don’t know what would become of me.”

Graham nearly curses the witch Lyblac, knowing from experience his son’s hypothetical fate. _No, now is not the time._ He shifts his attention toward the aforementioned friends - a peculiar bunch from all walks of life, he senses. Yet, they saved his son from a horrific existence. It is confirmation enough, and as they nod and wave back, he relaxes. For the first time in years, Graham feels at peace.

“Such blessed companions you have found,” Graham responds with mixed emotion. “Still, I will not use their kindness to deny my foolishness. I am sorry, Kit. I understand if you refuse, but… pray forgive me for burdening you with this grief.”

Kit lets out a soft chuckle. Yes, his father made mistakes, but all for Mother’s sake. Fate dealt an unfortunate hand upon them, but his father held no control over it. He tried his best in the end. Isn’t that the best one can do during misfortune? The realization did not come alone, however.

For a long time, Kit felt his life play out like a constant stream of mistakes. Only through the travelers’ kindness did he realize that, perhaps his journey was worth the struggle. He can’t bear it in his heart to hold a grudge when Father tried his best.

“I have found you, Father, and I know you are free from your troubles. While I wish things ended differently, I know your spirit may finally rest. Knowing this, I have no reason to deny forgiveness.”

“O-Oh, the heavens smile upon me once more…” Graham blesses the gods as he embraces Kit with all his strength. “I love you so much, my son...”

They share this moment in blissful peace. Glancing past his son’s trembling form, however, there’s another one. He’s staring right at him, eyes transfixed, tears flowing freely. Those eyes...

“Kit, why don’t you greet your mother? She’s been waiting her turn after old me,” Graham chuckles as he gestures toward her outstretched arms. While various emotions swirl in Kit’s mind - sorrow, shame, relief - his body acts with due haste. He shuffles along into her embrace and wraps his arms around her. The gods have blessed this light, too.

“Oh, my dearest Kit… how long has it been? I understand if your memory of me is hazy after all this time…”

Kit shakes his head, a fresh wave of tears falling. “You look healthy, Mother. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you in good health...” he confesses. “But when did Father…?”

“Not too long ago,” she ghosts her hand over Kit’s hair. “When I first met his spirit, I asked of you. If you’re here, where is our son? He spoke of his travels and… of a certain fate, only to be released from the darkness that gripped him. As quick as an arrow, he said. He could not tell me of your whereabouts, but he pleaded for the gods to watch over you. Ah, but here I ramble when I should rejoice…” 

She pours all her warmth into the embrace, hoping Kit feels her love. He does. And the tears continue to fall.

Meanwhile, Graham’s spirit kneels down to meet Alfyn’s teary eyes, concern laced in his otherwise gentle tone. 

“What troubles you, my friend?”

...

“...’s you.” Alfyn’s voice breaks. “You’re the one who saved me back in Clearbrook, remember? You helped when you knew we had nothin’. When I woke up and saw what you left behind, all the work you put into curin’ me…”

His shoulders tremble, yet he lets out a soft laugh. Out of nerves or relief, he cares not.

“Alfyn... the boy who hoped he could do that too, someday.”

There’s a look in Graham’s eyes as the words take him back - a beacon of hope in what seemed like a fruitless journey. Such were the words he spoke, when he was strong enough. Yes… he shared his dream of following his stead as an apothecary. Those eyes were so determined - one would not have believed they had gazed upon death’s door. 

Because of this boy, he was able to forgive himself and believe his journey had not been a fool’s one, after all.

“I could never forget,” Graham murmurs, his eyes shining with realization. If he could shed tears, they would fall in rivers. “The moment you shared your hopes was worth more than leaves will ever buy. I saw someone in a bind, and I helped them out...” 

“...simple as that,” they finish the quote together, the very words that sutured Alfyn’s wounded heart when he felt too weak to move on. They can’t help but share a laugh.

He notices the man reach for him, and he closes the distance. Graham settles his hands over Alfyn’s calloused ones, turning them over with a clerical eye. Alfyn allows it. The warmth soothes his skin.

“Your hands alone tell me countless tales… struggles and sacrifice, yes, but a rare selflessness in these trying times. Tell me, Alfyn… have you done what you could?”

Alfyn hesitates, thinking about his journey from Clearbrook to present day. From abundant optimism to scolding his own naivety, doubts clouded his pure intentions at many points. Could he save everyone? No. Could he dictate who deserved to be saved? It was difficult to say. He did not want to revisit those dark thoughts again, and yet, his savior merely asked him if he’d done what he could. In the end, meeting him at these gates offered the closure he needed.

“I-It’s been hard… there were so many times when I thought it was over for me. That I’d never come back from the pain, the heartbreak. I couldn’t save everyone, and I almost couldn’t save myself. But my friends… they helped me through it. They helped me clear my doubts, or just let me cry against them. When I think of your words, I… I think I understand. I can heal all the people I want, but what others do after that is on them. Good or evil - it’s not my place to decide. I’ve done my part. It's all I can do, ya know...?”

“A wise philosophy, Alfyn, “ Graham reassures. “You have grown into a fine young man. While I cannot say the hardships will end - after all, life is a _fickle thing_ \- so long as you do your part, it is enough. Others will gather around your bountiful warmth - and the close ones will keep it alight, should the spark flicker.”

“Shucks…” Alfyn swipes at his unending tears, heart rekindled by his words. “I… thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me… to hear this from you.” He doesn’t know if it’s the tears, but the light in front of him starts to glimmer again.

“Ah, so the time has come…” he hears Graham’s reluctant tone. Alfyn reaches for his hands once more, but he phases through the light. _No, wait--_

Kit notices too, as beams of light swirl around his mother’s frame, and he’s forced to separate. The lights repel them, as if to remind them that it’s not their time. Shakily, he helps a trembling Alfyn to his feet and down the stairs, where their friends wait with open arms. Everyone is standing now - entranced, touched by the reunions, even crying themselves. Together, they stand firm and face the glimmering lights.

“Brave travelers… you have our eternal gratitude. Because of you, my spirit may live free with my beloved, and our son may have a new life to live, however he chooses.”

“To our dearest Kit… should you find yourself in doubt, you need only look up. We will watch over you, wherever you go. We love you so much, and forever more.”

Hands entwined, the spirits gaze upon the travelers for the final time. The light between their fingers glows brighter than the rest.

“May the gods smile upon you all. Wherever your journeys take you, may you always treasure the times along the way. Live on, and live strong.”

The two spirits gradually fade away, yet the light within their hands remains. With a final burst of energy, the light sails through the air and into Kit’s hands. A peculiar golden ribbon remains, brimming full of a family’s love for their dear son.

“Oh...?”

Everyone huddles closer to offer their insight. Alfyn’s still recovering, yet flashes Kit a smile. Kit smiles back.

 _A final memento seems most plausible_ , he hears the Professor deduce. They all seem to agree. Then, the pressing questions--

“Wouldn’t it look nice in your hair, Kit?” 

“Is it magical -- hey Professor, you gotta _ask_ first -- inside?” 

“So long as thou carryeth thy ribbon close to thee, thy placement matters little.” Such is H’aanit’s voice of reason, and one that a now-flustered Kit follows. Pinning the ribbon on his chest, he seems content. Almost light on his feet, and yet, no lighter than his head feels. He clasps the nearest shoulder as the group leaves the gates behind.

On the way back, Olberic offers to carry the exhausted Kit along the rugged path. Phrased like a demand, really, but Kit cannot complain as he leans his weary head against the warrior’s shoulder. Oddly enough, no enemies target them during the trek.

“Well, we _did_ just beat a fallen god! They’re probably more scared of us now, if they weren’t before!”

“Tressa, don’t you forget that light was the saving grace of this entire battle!” Ophilia clarifies, hand against her hip. “I know I’m a healer, but I think I did my best! As did the Professor!”

“Come now, Ophilia, you performed splendidly! Though, I cannot disagree with your latter statement. This sorcerer’s tome was a wise investment indeed, and with our conjuring of lights combined, nothing could have obstructed our path!”

How amusing it is to hear such brazen confidence, even after a perilous fight. 

“How are you faring, my friend?” Olberic addresses Kit with the respect a knight gives his liege. “Should you require rest, you need only say the word.”

“I am all right, Sir Olberic, but thank you,” he responds in a low voice. “Is… Is Alfyn nearby?”

The warrior hums, motioning for the man with a nod of his head. He senses the reason, but says nothing. Boots crunch against the dirt, and Alfyn’s by his side.

“Hey bud, you called?”

“Mm... “ Kit pauses, locking eyes with the apothecary. “You… you knew my father?”

“O-Oh, well-” Alfyn stumbles over his words, scratching the back of his neck. “A little, yeah. He saved my life in more ways than one, that’s for sure. It’s a long story.”

“Hm,” Kit mulls over Alfyn’s words, and a gentle smile forms. “I have the time. I would love to hear everything you know. If Father helped a kind man like yourself, then his journey was worth it, after all.”

“Shucks, Kit, you’re gonna make me cry again,” the apothecary teases before lowering his voice. “So, how’re you holdin’ up?”

“It’s.... it’s a lot to take in,” Kit shuts his eyes, letting out a trembling sigh. Olberic hums in understanding. “I have closure, yes, yet it raises more questions. I’m unsure of where to go. Who to be. Why to be.”

“Heh, then you’ll fit in just fine,” Alfyn consoles. “Why don’t ya come with us? We can talk over drinks, figure it out together.”

“Everhold is not far from here,” Primrose chimes in after a long silence. “They have a grand theater, should you attempt a life of the arts a second time. While the previous director was… subpar, at best, the town’s actors hold much potential.”

“Pft, do they _know_ what I did in Northreach? They got nothing on me,” the thief coolly interjects.

“Oh, so you _are_ interested in that theater career?”

“I’ll keep my options open,” Therion rolls his eye at the dancer. “Though we _did_ help out that king in Marsalim - biggest pile of honest leaves I’d ever seen.”

“Hey hey, one thing at a time!” Alfyn waves his hands in the air. “I’m _dyin’_ for a drink after all of that, but it’s my treat, so I’ll--”

“Thou art mistaken, Alfyn. ‘Tis _my treat._ I hath made thee a promise,” comes H’aanit’s smooth voice (and Linde’s sound of approval). She’s entirely serious. Alfyn leaves it at that.

“I would enjoy that very much,” a sleepy Kit affirms. “Truth be told, I… I do not wish to be alone right now. Perhaps you may help me find my way once more?”

With little issue, the travelers come to a mutual agreement. Whether out of pure intent or mere curiosity, it mattered little. Truth be told, they didn’t wish to leave each other, either. Not yet.

“It is no trouble, my friend,” Olberics reassures. “We have quite the expertise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like Kit will spend lots of time with this hot mess of a group, hooray
> 
> Linde is best girl
> 
> I do find the dynamic between Kit and Alfyn fascinating. They'll have a lot to say, and they'll help each other figure things out c':
> 
> If you read this, you are a shining light in these trying times, thank you


End file.
